"Dream Without a Plot or Title" by Mike James
Here we are again. You run naked down the sidewalk on a summer day. Every neighbor
nonchalantly tosses a ball in his/her yard or else, that old standby, cuts grass.
You're embarrassed to be naked as sunlight. Then embarrassed no one notices. Not the mailman
with his big blue bag of promises. Not the urbanized, moneyed couple who walk
their alligator, pretend he loves them and his leash. Then there’s your 10th grade math teacher.
You haven’t thought of the worn gap of her smile in years. She’s there, on a front porch,
dressed like the cat lady you always thought she was. With a smile and a wave, she tosses
a loaf of french bread, shouts, Keep running! This is all you need.